In honor of the king of commentary, Andy Rooney

Something Andy Rooney might say:

Why is it the moment you drag your exhausted body to bed and curl up under the cozy sheets, your eyes pop open and you are left to stare at the ceiling until 4 AM?  I don’t know, but it seems to happen quite frequently these days.  Perhaps its boredom. Perhaps it’s my mind thinking about my next post.  Or maybe it’s just that I can’t sleep.  Why don’t they make scented sheets that calm your senses and allow you to drift off into blissful rest?

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